Forgetting things

by Penny Nelson August 21, 2012

I hate it when I forget something. I'm marginally angry pretty much whatever it is I've forgotten but some things are more important than others. And more fixable than others. If I forget to feed the dog he comes and sits next to me and gently puts his head on my leg. It's the only time he does that and he doesn't generally ask for a meal after he's already had one. Quick fix - get up and feed the dog. If I forget to file a quarterly tax form QuikBooks will let me know. If I forget to return someone's call they will generally call back. Over the years I've learned to say "I'm so sorry. I completely forgot." It's an honest and heartfelt reply. I really am sorry.

What makes me totally furious is forgetting something for someone I love. Like a birthday or an anniversary or some other event. I refuse to believe this is the beginning of any sort of dementia. It's just busy lives and lots of multi-tasking. Or maybe that's just an excuse.

Sometimes it really is funny. Take this morning for instance. I have a package that needs to get to the post office. Ron has some shopping to do in Columbus or Sealy or maybe both so I need to get this package ready to go so he can take it with him. The box is in the house. The shipping tape dispenser is in the house. The gift is in the house. The note to go in the package is in the studio. The wrapping paper is in the studio. The packing material is in the house. Not sure where the address is. Could I get all these things in the same place so I could wrap the package and get it ready to go? Not without repeated trips back and forth between house and studio. I even had Ron run back to the House to get the one last thing I needed.

There are times when weaving like crazy because you know your children won't have clothes this winter seems like a much easier way of life. Not so easy as we have it now but not so fractured either. Am I willing to go back to 100 years ago and give up vaccines and antibiotics to have a simpler life? Not hardly. I just wish I could figure out where I left my favorite shuttle.